Redress
by lil smiles
Summary: In the end, he was the unlikely hero to set things right. AU - Post 2x08 His Red Right Hand. Jane/Lisbon. Epilogue: No Red John. Just Lisbon. His Lisbon. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Wow, okay. Post-_Unforgivable_. I'm feeling kinda lost not having such a beast of a fic to think about. I'm hoping to get together my next long-ish story soon. My beta Lysh would be glad to hear that she'll have loads of editing to do. I hope :P Anyhow, this is a little something that was inspired by Kathiann's fic, _To Protect You_. Go read it if you haven't. Go. Now. I can wait. Then come back and read mine *big grin* I might continue with this, but we'll see. Huge, massive, gigantinormous thanks to Tracie for being kind enough to read this and like it. *hugs*  
**

**Spoilers: I guess you can say second season, but really, not a whole lot here.**

**Warnings: Character death, mild crime scene violence.  
**

**Disclaimer: You know that part in the opening credits it says 'Created by Bruno Heller'? Yeah, I'm not him.  
**

* * *

**Prologue**

Two shots.

Then silence.

Time stands still for only a second.

Lisbon flies up the steps.

Gun drawn, heart pounding in her ears.

She turns the corner.

Cho and Rigsby, both at her heels.

The far door on the right is the only one open, just a sliver.

She hears nothing as she barrels in.

The first thing she sees is a man on the floor.

One she doesn't recognize.

Face down, blood pooling from a single gunshot wound to the head.

Then the other.

One she does recognize.

She feels her throat tighten.

She is being watched.

Cornflower gaze.

He sits, tucked away in the corner of the room.

A 9 mm in his hands, trained straight ahead.

Never breaking eye contact.

With her own weapon still drawn, she slowly kneels down beside the body closest to her. Free hand, fingers pressing against his neck.

No pulse.

Repeat motions.

Second victim.

Her colleague, her friend.

Same result.

She hangs her head, saddened.

The loss of a good man.

She straightens, holsters her firearm.

She could hear Cho and Rigsby do the same.

They remain at the door as she approaches him.

He looks confused, scared.

She tentatively reaches out and covers his hands with her own.

He grips onto the revolver stubbornly.

It still doesn't take much effort for her to free it from his grasp.

She passes the gun backward and Cho takes it away.

A call for an ambulance.

Body bags.

The sirens, faint in the distance.

None of it mattered.

Her hand cups his cheek before she could process her actions.

She gently kneads away the lone tear that escapes his eye.

Pulls him towards her, cradling his head into her chest.

A whisper of a kiss against his temple.

"Sam saved me…"

Strangled.

"I know."

Reassured.

Louder wails.

A red and blue light show through the open window.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	2. Part I

**A/N: Wasn't going to continue this but I've been really thinking about "the end" quite a bit recently and I thought this was something worth looking at. Thank you to khalek-aeryn, Divinia Serit, Geilie, JelloFanatic123, tromana, Jadestar1981 and Madaboutthementalist. This update is for you guys. Enjoy!**

**Spoilers: Second season.**

**Warnings: Character death, mild crime scene violence.  
**

**Disclaimer: Let's just say that if I owned them, I could guarantee a Christmas episode and that there will be mistletoe involved... But I can't *sad face*  
**

* * *

**Part I  
**

"I should have been there faster."

"It's not your fault."

"Then why do I feel like I'm responsible?"

A warm summer breeze tugs at the woman's hair. Her hand swipes back the stubborn bangs from her eyes. The sun beating down on the pair left.

Inappropriate weather for a funeral.

"Because you're you, Lisbon. You're a good agent. I wouldn't have hired you if you weren't."

"If I was a good agent, Sam would still be alive."

"Sam knew what he was doing."

"That's beside the point."

The older gentleman sighs, wrapping a loose arm around her shoulders.

"Stop it, alright? It's done. It's over."

She feels dejected, probably looks it too. He figures she probably hasn't had a good night's sleep in days. She knows it has been weeks.

"Yeah, it's over."

Both are staring down at the temporary placard sticking out from the ground. _Samuel Jarred Bosco._ A single red rose, placed lovingly by a grieving widow.

"Where's Jane?"

The question he should have expected. He was the last person that Jane talked to.

She waits.

Hesitation.

"I honestly don't know."

The answer.

She doesn't push the matter further.

"I see. So now what?"

"We go back."

Double meanings.

Go back to work?

Simple.

Go back to life before Red John? Before Jane? Before Bosco?

Not so simple.

"You make it sound like it's easy."

Frustration.

"I never said it was."

Determination.

Nodding her head, she stuffs her hands into her pockets.

"I just want to stay here for a little bit longer."

"Okay."

He leaves with a single pat on her back. From the corner of her eye, she watches him. His car rounds the corner and pulls out of sight. A minute passes before she gets into her own car. A u-turn. She heads in the opposite direction.

* * *

The house isn't a house. It's a mansion. Stained glass, mahogany, gilded trim. Something worthy of the front of a catalogue.

Knocks twice.

Rings the bell.

No answer.

Knocks again, louder this time.

Still no answer.

Maybe she's wrong for assuming.

Last ditch effort, she turns the handle.

Surprise.

The door swings open all on its own.

Her hand immediately finds her hip.

Ducking inside, she guides herself past the living room.

A kitchen, a study, a bathroom.

Fancy antique furniture.

French doors leading to a backyard patio.

Everything is spotless, in place.

It isn't a home, merely the shell of one.

"Jane?"

Tentative.

No answer.

She doubles back at the end of the hall, taking the steps leading to the second floor. Empty, square voids along the walls. She runs her fingers along the faded edges.

Realization.

She doesn't even know what his wife, his daughter looked like.

Ten years.

She's known him for more than a decade and she doesn't know anything about him.

At least nothing that's worth knowing.

At the top of the staircase, the master bedroom.

She stops.

"Jane?"

No answer.

Cautiously, she enters the room. He's standing, his back towards her, facing a garish red smile painted against pristine white.

A tremor travels down her spine.

The gleam of a knife in his hands.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	3. Part II

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I will try my best to update this one quicker than I did my previous stuff since the chapters are much shorter. I didn't quite expect this kind of response and I was definitely not prepared to turn this oneshot into a multi-chaptered thing, but I will do my best. I'll have to take a jump back in time to explain so, bear with me in the following installments to come. Enjoy!**

**Warnings: See Chapter 1.**

**Spoilers: Second season. 2x03 Red Badge in particular for this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Bruno Heller, Ashley Gable, the rest of the producers, they own, not me. I just play.  
**

* * *

**Part II  
**

"I didn't plan past this."

She doesn't move.

He doesn't either.

Her eyes never leave the knife.

His eyes never leave the wall.

"He's dead. He's finally dead and I-I should be happy."

"It doesn't work that way, Jane."

"I want it to."

Broken.

"So do I."

Equally broken.

"I should be in jail."

"But you're not."

"I should be."

She might as well been talking to the wall.

"You did the right thing."

"Did I? Sam's dead."

"You didn't kill him."

"I may as well have."

"_He_ almost got _you_ killed."

"Maybe."

"Stop it. Just stop."

Silence.

She's about to speak again.

Cut off by metal against plaster.

She flinches.

He attacks the wall with such rage.

She feels each stab.

One after another.

Over and over again.

She suddenly can't just stand there any longer.

Hand ends up on his arm.

Blade lodges itself in the middle of the curved smirk.

She pulls him back.

He stumbles and almost falls into her arms.

Steadying grasp.

A comforting squeeze.

Words escape her.

Not him.

"I can't stay."

The house? The CBI? Sacramento? With her?

She doesn't dare to ask.

Afraid to know his answer.

Eyes meet.

Tears threatening to spill at any given moment.

Goodbyes are clearly not his forte.

Nor hers.

"Don't go."

"There's nothing left for me here."

His words hurt.

"The team needs you."

"Tell them I'm sorry."

"You tell them yourself."

A faint smile.

"Stubborn as always, Lisbon."

"I learn from the best."

Tension lifted.

Temporary fix.

"_I_ need you, Jane."

Unexpected admission.

"You deserve better."

Expected response.

"Don't tell me what I deserve."

Something stirs inside her.

She kisses him.

Lips grazing the corner of his mouth.

Tender. Chaste.

Over too soon.

Warmth from his breath against her ear.

"Be well, Teresa."

She is momentarily frozen.

And then, he's gone.

* * *

Keys. Bowl.

She shuffles into her messy apartment.

Collapses onto the couch.

Cradles her head in her hands.

Remembers.

Carmen. McTeer.

Jane's hypnotic trance.

Her real breakdown.

Real tears.

His real concern.

She doesn't even realize, doesn't care.

Her palms are wet.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	4. Part III

**A/N: Thank you to all the readers. I'm finally getting to the part where I explain what happened prior to Chapter 1. So hang in there. As for the ending, it's still up in the air. Haven't planned it all out quite yet. Special thanks to kathiann, Geilie, Laura, Madaboutthementalist, TheMcMentalist, AnkaS, khalek-aeryn, SpaceAnJL, desa1985, tromana, JelloFanatic123, celticgina, yaba. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I had a million dollars... I'd be rich but still wouldn't own the Mentalist.**

* * *

**Part III  
**

"What do you mean he's gone?" Rigsby, utterly perplexed.

"He's _gone_. Left his access card on Minelli's desk." Cho, unfazed.

"Why?" Van Pelt, hurt.

"Red John's dead." Cho.

"So what? Red John's dead and Jane just takes off without saying goodbye?" Rigsby.

"Stop acting as though this is shocking news. We knew this was going to happen."

"No, no, I don't buy it. We're a team. He knows that."

"You're being naïve. We, us and Lisbon, we're a team. Jane…"

Cho trails off.

They watch as the boss enters the bullpen.

She barely acknowledges any of them.

Eyes linger briefly on the empty leather couch by the window.

Disappears into her office.

Cho catches the look.

As do the other two agents.

The door closes.

"This is crazy." Rigsby.

Cho stands up.

Walks in without knocking.

"I have nothing to say."

Her eyes remain focused on her computer.

"Well, I do."

She doesn't look at him.

"Screw Jane."

She almost laughs.

"Is that it?"

"Essentially."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

He turns, about to leave, turns back.

"How did you know?"

She looks genuinely confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Cho takes the empty seat in front of her desk.

"Red John, Bosco. How did you know where they were?"

Lisbon frowns.

Pinches the bridge of her nose.

She doesn't want to think about it.

It's all she has been thinking about the past few days.

Red John.

Gone.

Bosco.

Gone.

Jane.

Gone.

Under different circumstances, her biggest fantasy has come true.

"Lucky guess."

A shrug of her shoulders.

Cho clearly looks unamused with her answer.

But he knows not to overstep his boundaries.

He stands and walks out.

The shaky smile on her face withers.

* * *

_Three days earlier…_

_"I'm telling you, it's big."_

_ "Jane, for the last time, no. We're not tailing Bosco."_

_ She turns away._

_ Hand on elbow._

_ He spins her around._

_ Faces a hairsbreadth from one another._

_ His lips._

_ His eyes._

_ Perfect blue._

_"You told me if I ever needed anything to come to you first."_

_ She swallows. _

_ Hard._

_She recalls a promise to herself._

_ Never to let those blue eyes control her._

_ Never._

_"I'm driving."_

* * *

_**TBC**  
_


	5. Part IV

**A/N: Yes, I realize it's been a while. Final project is killing me. Oh how I'm not going to miss this part of university. In any case, I will try to update this as quickly as I can. On the up side, be prepared for loads of updates during the Christmas break since I'll have more time. Thank you tromana, khalek-aeryn, Divinia Serit, AnkaS, Ebony10, yaba, thea, celticgina, Geilie, kathiann, Madaboutthementalist, Viktorija and Frogster. I have the best audience. I truly do. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: In my universe, where I owned the Mentalist, I wouldn't have killed off Sam Bosco... Oh, wait, too late for that. In any case, I still don't own anything.  
**

* * *

**Part IV**

_Two sets of eyes._

_One intense green._

_The other murky blue._

_ A safe distance away._

_ The eyes take in the sight of a middle aged man._

_ A cop._

_ Dressed in a simple suit jacket and tie._

_ He jogs up the steps of an unfinished apartment complex._

_ Alone._

_ Odd._

_ He looks skittish. _

_ Casts a few suspicious glances backwards._

_ Ducks under yellow tape._

_ Enters._

_ The woman the green eyes belongs to, takes in a sharp breath._

_ Steals a glance at the blue eyed man seated beside her._

_ He says nothing._

_ He hasn't said anything since they left the bullpen._

_ "We should go back."_

_He barely nods his head._

_ She sighs._

_ She's about to start the engine when her companion bolts from the car._

_ "Shit."_

_ She should have known better._

_He is deceptively quick._

_Luckily, so is she._

_He is barely across the street._

_She tackles him from behind._

_"Jane… Jane!"_

_Her voice is a fierce whisper._

_Laced with conviction._

_She pulls him by the collar._

_Spins him around._

_His eyes are wildly darting every which way._

_Like a drug addict itching for his next fix._

_All too familiar._

_She's lived through this once before._

_Different drug._

_Not so different man._

_She keeps her hands firmly around his shoulders._

_Shakes him slightly._

_ That's when she hears the first gun shot._

_ Her body goes into automatic agent mode._

_ Pushes Jane towards the SUV._

_ Prattles off commands._

_ "Stay in the car… Don't be an idiot…"_

_ Futile attempts._

_She doesn't take a second glance back as she bursts in._

_Firearm out in front of her._

_The hallway is poorly lit._

_The air smells of wood, nails, fresh paint._

_She makes it to the stairwell, concrete._

_ A door slams shut from above._

_ She sprints._

_ Heart beats._

_Furious against her chest._

_Two flights._

_Another door._

_Her hand is on the knob before she realizes._

_She pauses._

_Stares blankly at her open palm._

_Sticky with blood._

* * *

_**TBC**_


	6. Part V

**A/N: Final project, over. Christmas celebrations, semi over (going to keep partying regardless). Redress, back (but almost over). We're still in the past (denoted by the italics). There's probably going to be just a few more chapters (the last two have yet to be written) and we'll swich over to Jane's POV shortly. Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who has read, reviewed and/or favourited. Special thanks to Tracie, Viktorija, Fallen Angels of Love, lisbon69, Laura, Yana, Susan, Frogster, Geilie, Jennifer and HOUSEMDFanForever****. ****And if I don't post again prior to 2010... HAPPY NEW YEAR!  
**

**Disclaimer: Put simply if I owned the Mentalist... I would probably have bought out Google and Facebook while I was at it.  
**

* * *

**Part V**

_She swipes her hand across her pant leg._

_ Ignoring the red smear that it creates._

_ Her gaze is fixated in front of her._

_Spotting a lone figure._

_ His back towards her._

_ He is speaking._

_ Barely audible from where she is standing._

_ She inches forward._

_ Another voice._

_ Different from the first._

_ She's about to reach them when she's grabbed from behind._

_ A hand over her mouth._

_ A muffled scream._

_ She struggles but is pulled backwards._

_ She frees a hand._

_Spins around._

_ Gun ready._

_ It takes her but a second to get her bearings._

_ Aim._

_ She almost fires._

_She drops her arms._

_Glares._

_She speaks in forceful but hushed tones._

_ "Jesus, Jane, I could have kil…"_

_He presses a finger across her lips._

_ Silently grabs her arm._

_Tugs her to crouch beside him._

_ The voices are closer now._

_ Just beyond the wall they are hiding behind._

_ "I've given you what I have. Now it's your turn."_

_ "I'm afraid, that's not possible."_

_ She recognizes the second voice immediately._

_ "We had a deal." _

_ "What deal?"_

_ Cocky._

_ Typical Bosco._

_ One day it'll get him killed._

_ "You're going to regret crossing me."_

_ "Did you learn your evil villain lines from Disney movies? They're just about as good as your aim."_

_ "I told you that was an accident."_

_ "I'm sure it w…" _

_ Bosco stops in midsentence._

_ There's a squeak._

_ Shuffling feet._

_ She holds her breath._

_ "Who the Hell are you?"_

_ Another shot._

_Bosco's question is answered._

_ She jumps into action._

_ Despite Jane's grasp on her._

_ About to go to her former boss's aid._

_ Pauses._

_ Listens._

_ Footfalls from below._

_ At least two people._

_ She's torn._

_ Eyes dart between both ends of the hallway._

_ "CBI, freeze!"_

_ Bosco's voice sounds distant now._

_ She decides to deal with the other intruders instead. _

_ She looks over at Jane._

_ "Stay here."_

_ Again, she doesn't believe he'll listen._

_ But she feels giving him warning is necessary._

_She runs back down the flight of stairs._

_The door at the end of the steps swings forward._

_ Two guns are aimed at her._

_ The owners of the guns stare at her._

_ She stares blankly back._

_ Cho._

_ Rigsby._

_ She lowers her weapon._

_ The pair lowers their own._

_ One day these boys will get her killed._

"_You both better have good explanation as to why you're here."_

_Rigsby sheepishly looks down at his feet._

_Cho meets her eyes straight on._

"_Are you okay?"_

"_I'm fine."_

"_Where's Jane?"_

_There's not a chance for another word._

_Two shots._

_Then silence._

* * *

_**TBC**_


	7. Part VI

**A/N: Love Cho to pieces. Love him. So this was fun to write. Thanks to Tracie, Viktorija, TexannaRose, lisbon69, Laura, Yana, Susan, Geilie, Jen and lgmtreader. ****Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim that I own absolutely nothing...  
**

* * *

**Part VI**

_Present day…_

Lisbon reaches for her mug.

Empty.

She groans.

Stands up.

Stretches her legs.

Notices the office is now still.

Dark.

Just rows of empty desks to greet her.

Except for one.

Light from a dim lamp.

Cho.

At his computer.

Deep in thought.

She watches him a moment.

Then ambles over.

Perches on an unoccupied corner.

"What are you still doing here?"

He doesn't meet her gaze.

"I could ask you the same question."

He leans back in his seat.

Sighs.

"It's my fault."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I gave Jane the tip."

The gravity of his voice confuses her.

Only for a brief moment.

His admission explains a lot.

Truthfully, she had a hunch.

A _Jane_ hunch.

She suppresses a smile.

Cho notices.

"Did Jane tell you what happened?"

She frowns.

Shakes her head.

"Probably told Minelli."

He offers a noncommittal shrug.

Points at the screen.

A mug shot.

Light brown hair.

Matching eyes.

Ordinary.

"Our jumper, Roland Jaimesson. Small time criminal. Mainly B&E's."

A pause.

"Hicks said that he was a rather reliable snitch. Helped catch bigger fish. Not sure what Bosco got from him or what he gave to Bosco. There wasn't anything in either's possession that the coroner found."

"And Red John?"

Another sigh.

A few clicks of his mouse.

The ordinary face is replaced.

Another ordinary face.

Autopsy photo.

Darker brown hair.

"Prints aren't in the system. We'll probably never know who he really was, let alone if he actually was Red John."

He sounds tired.

Looks it too.

She feels the same way.

Though she doesn't have doubts as to the mystery man's identity.

She trusts Jane's instincts.

He believes the man is Red John.

She believes it too.

She fights the impulse to gaze at the still empty leather couch.

"You miss him."

Not a question.

A statement.

Fact.

Truth.

She will never admit it aloud.

Simply reaches out.

Pats his shoulder.

"It's not your fault."

She slides off his desk.

Heads towards the break room.

Only then realizing she does not have her mug.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	8. Part VII

**A/N: HAPPY 2010!****! Got quite a bit of writing done so here's the next part! I have to say that this was one of my favourites to write. Thanks to ****Tracie, ****lisbon69, ****Viktorija, ****Frogster, ****Yana and Div. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Me = Not the owner of the Mentalist  
**

* * *

**Part VII**

_Three days earlier…_

_ He barely watches Lisbon disappear once more._

_ Scrambles to his feet._

_Moves in the opposite direction._

_ He is never good at following instructions._

_ He colors outside of the lines._

_ Looks down at the ground._

_ A trail._

_Tiny droplets of blood._

_ Something just doesn't feel right._

_ He turns the corner._

_ Only one door is wedged slightly open._

_ A single shaft of sunlight spills into the hall._

_ He cautiously walks towards it._

_ "Rollie, don't do it. Don't jump."_

_ "You're dead either way."_

_ "Shut up."_

_ Bosco is standing beside a shorter man._

_The man teetering on the ledge of the open window._

_Bosco's gun is drawn._

_The target, not visible to Jane._

_But his laugh._

_Deep._

_Throaty._

_Sinister._

_Jane could never forget that laugh._

_Even if wanted to._

_His hand trembles._

_But reaches out._

_Pushes the door further._

_Everything after is a blur._

_Gun shots._

_One._

_Two._

_ Somehow he ends up on the ground._

_ In the corner._

_ Alive._

_ Bosco is not as lucky._

_ Neither is the man in the window._

_ He's gone._

_Jane's gaze drifts across the room._

_ Red John._

_ It has to be him._

_ He lifts his head._

_ Blood dripping from his mouth._

_ Lips twisted in a sadistic smirk._

_ Jane clumsily reaches for the gun lying by his feet._

_ Clutches it for dear life._

_ Unsteadily aims at the monster that has caused him so much pain._

_ But he can't pull the trigger._

_ It doesn't matter._

_ Life drains from those haunting eyes._

_ Jane watches in utter despair._

_ Unable to think._

_ His normally clear perception of the world._

_ Shattered._

_ The door flies open._

_ His heart leaps into his throat._

_ She's standing there._

_His savior._

_ She removes the gun from his hands._

_ Holds him._

_ Comforts him._

_ He is enveloped in the light scent of her perfume._

_Cinnamon._

_ Sandalwood._

_It takes everything not to break down._

_ Every fiber of his being._

_ Yet a single tear manages to escape._

_ She thumbs it away._

_ He doesn't deserve her._

_ He doesn't deserve to love her._

_ He resists the urge to push her away._

_ Just a moment longer._

_ He clings to her._

_ She clings to him._

_ "Sam saved me…"_

_ She immediately cuts him off._

_"I know."_

_She offers him a reassuring look._

_Those eyes._

_ He decides that's what he'll miss the most._

_ Her honest eyes._

* * *

_**TBC**_


	9. Part VIII

**A/N: I'm going to hazard a guess and say there's two maybe three parts left. Thank you to all the readers, your lovely words are such encouragement. Special thanks to Yana, Viktorija, MentalistLover, Tracie, mtm, Geilie, Frogster and Div. ****Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: This witty disclaimer is brought you by the letters 'I' and the words 'Don't' and 'Own' (pour vous, Geilie)  
**

* * *

******Part VIII**

_A week later…_

Lisbon is unable to sit still.

She folds her hands.

Unfolds.

Folds them once more.

She watches Minelli carefully.

His brows are drawn together.

He flips a page.

Every so often he murmurs something incoherently.

But he is mainly silent.

He flips a page.

She unfolds her hands.

Folds.

He flips a page.

The process is repeated.

It's the longest twenty minutes of Teresa Lisbon's life.

When he's done, he removes his glasses.

Slides the document towards her.

"Are you sure you want to hand this in to the AG's office?"

He always asks the same question.

She always replies with the same answer.

This time should be no different.

"I stand by my report."

"There's nothing else you want to add."

_One of my agents intentionally eavesdropped on one of his colleagues to obtain confidential information on a case that we were not currently investigating. Said agent relayed classified information to the consultant on my team, fully aware of the potential consequences of his actions. Under my supervision, a consultant working on my team, chased the lead provided, which resulted in the deaths of Special Agent Samuel Bosco, an informant and a suspect. The suspect is believed to be the serial killer known as Red John._

Words that will never be spoken.

Never be written down.

Lisbon knows that Minelli will look the other way.

To protect her.

To protect her unit.

So in turn she protects him.

_Special Agent Samuel Bosco and CBI consultant, Patrick Jane, were meeting with one of Agent Bosco's informants when they were ambushed. I was in the area and responded to the sound of gunshots. The informant, Roland_ _Jaimesson,__ tried to escape through the second floor window but died from the injuries he sustained. Agent Bosco fatally wounded the unknown suspect but was killed while trying to protect Mr. Jane. _

"I stand by my report, sir."

He takes in a deep breath.

Exhales.

"Okay."

She nods her head.

Rises from her seat.

Turns to leave.

But turns right back around.

"Did Jane say anything to you?"

Minelli looks up at her.

It's apparent he's thinking of an appropriate answer.

"He said he had something that he needed to do."

* * *

_Somewhere north-east of Hartford, Connecticut…_

Fat large drops.

Pitter patter against the roof of his car.

He kills the engine.

Gets out.

The house he sees is familiar.

Yet unfamiliar.

Autumn olive.

Lyre-leaf sage.

Mountain laurel.

The signs of spring.

Awaiting summer.

He tilts his head back.

Eyes close.

The taste of cool rain on his tongue.

He misses this place.

This house.

Memories of visits years ago.

A little girl.

Running in the rain.

He looks over at the modest house.

A man.

Snow white hair.

Stands under the covering over the porch.

Jane slowly walks over.

Reaches the man.

No greetings.

No words.

Jane's hand slips into his pocket.

Pulls out a golden band.

Almost identical to the one he wears.

Silently offers the ring to the man.

For awhile the man just looks at him.

A kind smile graces his face.

He lifts his arms.

Wraps them around Jane's shivering form.

Holds him in a comforting embrace.

Like a father would a son.

A tear escapes Jane's eye.

And another.

Until Jane can no longer hold them back.

Tears.

Rain.

Indistinguishable.

"It's okay."

A gentle, calming voice.

"Everything will be okay."

* * *

_**TBC**_


	10. Part IX

**A/N: So I sort of backed myself in a corner here plot wise. I thought I had things figured out but I didn't quite think it all the way through. Anyway, long story short, this is what I ended up with. This part ends kind of awkwardly but hopefully the next installment will be better. Thanks again to everyone reading. I'm quite proud of this little fic. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I'm poor, blah blah, ****Jane and Lisbon, blah blah, ****OMGWTFBBQ JANE AND LISBON DANCE! *cough* I don't own, blah blah blah...  
**

* * *

**Part IX  
**

"Here."

Jane takes the steaming hot cup of tea being offered to him.

"Thanks."

Takes a sip.

The older gentleman settles down onto the couch.

"I'm sorry about…"

Jane trails off lamely.

He wants to run.

To be anywhere but here.

"There's no need to apologize."

Jane quietly observes the man sitting across from him.

Much older than he remembers.

Yet still strikingly handsome.

Warm smile.

Grief emanating from eyes of midnight blue.

"I always knew one day you'd be back."

Jane doesn't quite know how to respond.

He doesn't have to.

"I miss them. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about them."

The guilt creeps back.

For being the reason that this man suffers.

Misery.

Shame.

"I don't blame you, Patrick, I don't and neither should you."

Anger.

He can't quite let go.

No matter how much he wants to.

He's held onto it for so long.

The urge to leave is overwhelming now.

He's already done what he came here to do.

"I should go."

The tired eyes on him offer a knowing look.

Nothing else.

Jane sets the cup down onto the quaint coffee table.

Straightens.

Slips the towel from around his shoulders.

Silently heads towards the door.

He wishes he could offer more than just heartache.

"You have to start living your life, Patrick."

The words are firm.

Stops Jane midstride.

One foot out on the porch.

The other still inside.

"It's what they would have wanted."

There's nothing Jane can say.

He wishes he could speak to them.

Just to hear their voices.

To know how they truly felt.

He wishes he could believe that someday he would see them once more.

But he can't.

So like the coward that he is, he walks out the door.

And doesn't look back.

* * *

"Thank you for coming by, Teresa."

Lisbon smiles sympathetically at the young woman.

"Don't mention it."

She's the spitting image of her mother.

Beautiful.

Poised.

But she has her father's eyes.

Strikingly blue.

"I just didn't know who else to talk to. Mom is such a mess."

"Give her some time. She loved your father very much."

"I miss him too."

Lisbon can see a little of herself in Alex.

Can feel her pain.

Her need to put the pieces of her shattered life back together.

"Did he say anything to you?"

Lisbon frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"Dad, before he, you know?"

Slowly, Lisbon shook her head.

"Oh, okay."

Disappointment.

She wished she had something better to offer.

"Listen, if you ever need someone to talk to, you can call me. Anytime."

Alex smiles.

Then unexpectedly, reaches out a hand.

Resting atop of Lisbon's.

"Thank you."

A nod.

"Teresa?"

Looking up, she sees an older, wearier version of a once vibrant woman in the doorway.

"Amanda."

Somewhat startled, Lisbon removes her hand from beneath Alex's.

Stands.

"What are you doing here?"

There's a slight edge to Amanda Bosco's voice.

Alex answers before Lisbon could.

"I asked her over, Mom."

Lisbon shifts under the steady gaze of Amanda.

"Oh."

It's all the woman can muster.

There's an uncomfortable silence.

Lisbon's attention bounces.

Caught in the middle.

Between mother and daughter.

She clears her throat.

"I should get going."

"Wait, before you do."

Alex pauses.

Pulls a small white envelope from her pocket.

Holds it out towards Lisbon.

Curious, she takes it from the girl's hands.

Clutches it tightly as she exits the room.

Brushes past Amanda.

And slips out the door.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	11. Part X

**A/N: So I've decided to extend this fic. I'm not even going to bother predicting how many more chapters there's going to be until I get closer to "the end", whenever that may be. I felt that it was important to honour what did happen in the show and the next two installments is meant to accomplish just that. Thank you to all the readers/reviewers for their wonderful support****. Especially lgmtreader, who read and reviewed every chapter. This chapter is for you. Enjoy!  
**

**Spoilers: 2x08 His Red Right Hand**

**Warning: Crime scene.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own the Mentalist, it's characters, nor the dialogue that Ashley Gable wrote for His Red Right Hand (which was awesome!)  
**

* * *

**Part X  
**

_This is Hicks, you know what to do.  
_

Lisbon hears the loud beep.

Cho shuts his phone.

Opens.

Redials.

Waits.

Same recording.

"What's the matter?"

"Hicks was supposed to meet up with me this morning, said he found something on Red John."

Her eyes widen.

"What about?"

"Didn't say."

He holds open the front door.

She walks in.

He follows.

Takes a step.

Hesitates.

Starts to say something.

Changes his mind.

She stares at him curiously.

"What?"

"He wanted me to tell you that they're clearing out Bosco's office. Thought maybe you might want…"

He trails off lamely.

But the words have done their damage.

Aggravating the lingering ache in her heart.

For just a second.

Quickly subsides.

She recovers with a smile.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The stoic agent offers her a surprising grin.

They climb the rest of stairs in silence.

Until they reach the top.

She notices it first.

At the end of the hall.

A flood of light.

No noise.

The pair exchange glances.

Approach.

Alarms are already going off in her head.

Deafening.

She is about to knock.

But the door is already slightly ajar.

She pushes.

Her heart leaps into her throat.

Two bodies.

Blood.

Déjà-vu.

"Oh, God. Oh, God, no."

So much blood.

She reacts automatically.

On her knees.

First, Martinez.

Sprawled on the carpet.

She presses two fingers to his neck.

Waits.

Nothing.

Throws a look over her shoulder.

Finds Cho gone.

His voice floats in from the hallway.

_"This is Special Agent Cho, we've got agents down on the third floor…"_

She scrambles across the room.

_"Yes, inside the building. We're on lock down on my authority." _

Dyson.

Slumped against the wall.

Again presses two fingers to his neck.

Waits.

Again nothing.

_"Roll SWAT, SAC PD, and CHP and have them set up a perimeter, suspects may be still in here. Just lock this place down!"_

Her gaze darts between the two men.

Good men.

Sam's men.

Cho returns.

Gun in hand.

She pushes herself off the ground.

Hands trembling.

Solemnly, shakes her head.

He turns.

Drives a fist into the west wall.

At first they say nothing.

His eyes settle on her.

Briefly.

Void of emotion.

He looks away.

Visually sweeps the room.

She watches him closely.

His brows barely come together.

She knows that look.

Realization.

"Where's Hicks?"

* * *

_**TBC**_


	12. Part XI

**A/N: So sorry this update took so long. I wasn't planning on having this chapter to begin with but then my muse bugged me to write it. The good thing about it is that the next installment (the original Part 12) will be up quicker since it's already written. Oh and I wanted to mention this in the previous chapter but forgot. When Cho calls for the lock down, he says that they're on the fifth floor of the building, but when they first walk into the room, the door number starts with a '3'. I know floors and door numbers don't necessarily have to match but that was just weird to me, especially for a state building. Anyhow, thanks again to everyone who's sticking by this fic. Special thanks to simonisthecutestmentalist, Tracie, lisbonloafers, Geilie, Yana, Viktorija, Tabitha and doubly special thanks to Susan for catching up with the fic! Enjoy!  
**

**Spoilers: 2x08 His Red Right Hand**

**Warning: Crime scene.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing, sadly.  
**

* * *

**Part XI  
**

State cemetery.

Dead body.

Normally not warranting the CBI.

Posed.

Frozen.

Yellow roses, conspicuously placed.

Dr. Towlen Morning.

Cho relays what they found to his boss.

She can vividly picture the scene in her mind.

Purses her lips.

Towlen Morning.

The name sounds oddly familiar.

It's sitting at the tip of her brain.

Then it clicks.

"Morning."

The name is a whisper on her lips.

She grabs a file.

Flips through the pages.

Stops.

Cho looks over her shoulder.

Janet Peake.

Carter Peake.

"Red John."

It's all Cho says.

"He's dead."

She's dismissive.

"How do you know for sure?"

She doesn't answer the question.

Instead, her eyes catch the address below Morning's name.

Cho is already half way out the door.

Lisbon is close behind.

The drive there is a blur.

She calls Minelli.

Van Pelt.

Rigsby.

Backup.

But they don't wait.

Carefully duck inside.

Guns drawn.

It's eerily quiet.

They find Morning's office.

The door is already open.

They wander inside.

Then music.

Soft at first.

Examination Room 1.

Empty.

Examination Room 2.

The sight chills her to the very core of her being.

Through the blinds.

A red smile.

She hates it.

Hates it as much as the man that it symbolizes.

Heart pounding, she steps in.

Too late.

Hicks.

Dead.

Throat slit.

Red John's final victim.

From beyond the grave.

His grim legacy.

She watches as Cho shuts off the music.

She feels hollow.

Empty.

Dead on the inside.

"You should call Jane."

She looks up at Cho.

Shakes her head.

"No."

"He deserves to know."

"Red John is dead."

She refuses to believe he's still alive.

Hangs onto that belief like a lifeline.

Cho doesn't push her.

Instead looks over at Hicks.

Reaches out.

Closes the man's eyes with his fingers.

The sound of footsteps breaks the silence.

Cho backs out of the room.

Lisbon doesn't follow.

She can hear the voices.

Rigsby.

Van Pelt.

SWAT.

She is about to join her team.

But there's something still niggling in the back of her mind.

"Boss?"

Van Pelt's voice doesn't register.

She runs over to the door.

Squats down.

Eyes, level with the handle.

Scratches.

Messy.

Hurried.

Marring the brushed aluminum lock.

She can't help the first thought that becomes tangible in her mind.

Jane was here.

* * *

**_TBC_**


	13. Part XII

******A/N: Short note from me this time because the chapter speaks for itself. Most of it you've heard before, but I needed this scene to lead into the next. Oh and I wanted to say that I miss Minelli. A lot. Thanks as always to my faithful readers, especially, Tracie, Yana, Div, **simonisthecutestmentalist, Geilie, Viktorija, Shelli, and Susan. Enjoy!  


**Spoilers: 2x08 His Red Right Hand**

**Disclaimer: Ashley Gable is talented, no question. She's the real genius behind this chapter.**

* * *

**Part XII  
**

Lisbon steps out of her vehicle.

Instantly greeted by a swarm of reporters.

All crowded at the entrance of the CBI.

Minelli, caught in the middle.

A flimsy wooden podium, his only protection.

Cameras.

Microphones.

Lights.

The press conference has already started.

"We are devoting every resource to this investigation and I promise, I promise these agents' families, we will not rest, until we bring the perpetrators to justice."

She stands off to the side.

From up close, Minelli looks haggard.

Aged many years.

All in the span of a few short hours.

Her thoughts are interrupted.

A blonde woman speaks.

"Special Agent Minelli, our condolences. Would you describe your feelings at this terrible time?"

Lisbon isn't sure if she heard the question right.

The unamused look on Minelli's face tells her she hasn't.

"Wow, Meredith, that, you media guys, that's just the…"

He pauses.

"You know for eight years, I've put up with the idiotic questions of the media and I've never said squat. But today, I must tell you Meredith, you've really set a new standard in horse's assery."

Her brows shoot upward in surprise.

A part of her wants to laugh.

The other part manages to clamp her mouth shut.

"You people have no concept, of what we do. We go into dark, horrible places, alone and afraid. And we do it with no money, broken down vehicles, with computers that have more viruses than a ten dollar whore. How? Good people."

His eyes meet hers briefly.

Pride.

She feels it swell in her chest.

But it doesn't last.

Her heart breaks at the sorrow emanating from his gaze.

"And I lost three good people today. And a fourth a week ago. And you ask me how I'm feeling? I'm feeling sad. You, moron. Any other questions?"

Lisbon mentally dares someone to say something.

Anything.

No one is brave enough.

"Okay then, good day to you."

Lisbon immediately follows Minelli as he steps away from the hoard.

"Virgil."

He stops, turns.

"Horse's assery? Nice."

It's her feeble attempt to make light of the situation.

She fails.

All she can see is guilt.

Remorse.

"I shouldn't have done that."

"Hey, you told the truth."

"I did, it felt good."

A faint smile.

She reaches out.

Adjusts his tie.

"Stick with us, boss, we need you."

_I need you_, she silently adds.

"Yes, okay."

Reluctant.

Her hand lingers on his arm.

She doesn't want to leave him.

"I gotta run, you got this?"

"Go."

The lack of conviction shakes her.

But she does as she's told.

She has a job to do.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	14. Part XIII

**A/N: Uhm, not sure about this one. I like it, it's just, I dunno. Anyhow, I just want to reiterate how much I love Minelli. Thanks as always to my readers old and new, especially Tracie (my confidante, Mistress of Angst, I missed having you around this weekend), Yana, Geilie, Shelli, lisbonloafers, Div, Susan, Viktorija and patrickjane-ismyman. Oh and I really, REALLY want to say thank you to Geilie for her amazing support and kind words. You have no idea how much it means to me to get such possitive feedback on something that I truly love doing. Enjoy!  
**

**Spoilers: 2x08 His Red Right Hand**

**Warnings: Lisbon has a potty mouth but for good reason.  
**

**Disclaimers: I can only wish that in my next life, I own a part of the Mentalist.  
**

* * *

**Part XIII**

"_Dark hair, not that tall, kind of dumpy, olive-complected, wore these heels that kind of clicked, wore a thing, what's it, in her hair…"_

The sunlight bounces off her pearl barrette.

Making her easy to spot.

Her back, towards them.

Standing beside a meat-wagon.

A lighter in her hands.

Lisbon sprints.

Rage coursing through her veins.

Van Pelt beats her boss to the punch.

Tackles from behind.

But the damage has been done.

Black body bag.

Engulfed in flames.

The last pieces of evidence.

Gone.

In the blink of an eye.

Lisbon glares angrily at the twisted grin on Rebecca's face.

Pressing the barrel of her gun into the woman's temple.

"Bitch."

The word leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

"You bitch. Don't move, don't breathe and don't you smile at me."

Van Pelt gets the cuffs on her as Rigsby and Cho arrive.

The taller agent gruffly grabs Rebecca's other arm.

Briefly exchange glances with Van Pelt.

The two silently drag Rebecca away.

Cho lingers behind.

Eyes Lisbon.

She slowly holsters her weapon.

Hands shaking so violently, it takes her a few tries.

She gazes through the billowing smoke.

At the building where it all began.

Yellow tape, still crisscrossing the back entrance.

Bosco.

Red John.

Unbidden images materialize before her eyes.

Jane.

She had expected him to be here.

So sure he figured everything out.

"Lisbon."

Cho places a reassuring hand on her arm.

"You go."

She gives him a look that tells him he shouldn't argue.

He feels torn.

Barely shows it.

Slowly removes his hand.

Follows in the wake of his colleagues.

Towards a sea of red and blue lights.

* * *

"_Without death, there is no life, without dark, there is no light…"_

Rebecca's confession is disturbing.

Haunting.

Hicks.

Martinez.

Dyson.

Morning.

All of them killed by her hand.

Instructed by Red John.

Lisbon feels sick to her stomach.

She walks out.

Wanders to the break room.

Makes herself some tea.

Minelli appears in the doorway minutes later.

"You okay?"

She puts on a bright smile.

Cool.

Calm.

"Super."

He sighs.

"Are you okay?"

Her question is tentative.

She doesn't like the serious look on his face.

"Lisbon, Teresa… I, there's, uh, something important I need to tell you…"

He doesn't get the chance to finish.

Shouts erupt from below.

She drops her mug.

Flies down the stairs.

Too late, yet again.

Before she can even see the body, she knows.

Rebecca.

Glassy eyes.

Foam trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Dead.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	15. Part XIV

**A/N: Okay, my muse has gone off on a vacation again. So if you find her, send her back my way. Oh and if you find Jane too that would be fab. **** I think him and my muse are enjoying themselves on some tropical island so any ****help in locating them is much appreciated. Thank you to everyone who's been reading especially, Yana, Tracie, simonisthecutestmentalist****, Geilie, Div, Shelli, Viktorija and Susan.**** Lots of Lisbon angst/drama in this chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: *powers that be stares down from their high and might cloud* You *points at me* do not own the Mentalist! *me covers ears and hums* Lalalalalalalala...****  
**

* * *

**Part XIV**

"She was right here under our noses, working for Red John."

Van Pelt shakes her head in utter disbelief.

Cho simply nods in agreement.

Says nothing.

"Hey, you've been awfully quiet." Rigsby.

"Thinking."

"About?"

"Hicks, Martinez, Dyson…"

A tenuous pause.

"Could have easily been us."

Van Pelt's voice is unusually matter-of-fact.

Blunt.

No one utters another word.

Lisbon quietly observes her team for just a minute longer.

The somber atmosphere of the bullpen does little to calm her frayed nerves.

She moves away from her office door.

Shuts it.

Collapses into her chair.

Pops an aspirin.

Swallows, dry.

Stares down at empty pages.

Another report waiting to be written.

She's too distracted.

Then, notices it.

From the corner of her eye.

The envelope.

Still unopened.

She reaches for it.

Fingering the corner.

Minutes go by.

Finally, she rips it open.

Frowns.

Sheets of paper fall onto her desk.

Once crumpled.

Tossed away.

Later retrieved.

_I hope you can forgive me... _

_I never knew just how much..._

_I know you don't feel the same way..._

_I love you._

She reads those three little words.

Over and over.

Grief finally catching up with her.

Begins with a lone tear.

Ends abruptly with that single tear.

She blinks back the rest.

Aware that she's being watched.

Instinctively shoves the notes into the top drawer.

Pushes it close.

Slowly stands.

Not bothering to hide the surprised expression on her face.

"Amanda."

"Teresa."

"What are you doing here?"

The blonde is quiet for quite some time.

"I wanted to hear it from you. Is it true, about Rebecca?"

Lisbon expels the breath she's holding in.

"I can't discuss details pertaining to the case."

"But she was the reason Sam was killed."

"Really, I can't say."

"The hell you can't."

The widow's words feel like a slap in the face.

"You have no idea what it's like, to have your husband taken away from you, to have the man that you love ripped from your heart."

Lisbon can't even look Amanda in the eye.

The guilt overwhelms her.

She focuses her attention on the closed drawer.

Sheltering Bosco's final words for her.

Words, that should have been for his wife.

She reaches for the handle.

Pulls.

Takes the note on top.

Holds it out for Amanda.

"We found this in his office, next to a picture of you and your kids."

The lie comes easily.

Effortless.

Amanda breaks down.

Clutching the words to her chest.

As though her mere existence depended on them.

Lisbon wants to reach out.

To comfort her.

But all she can do is watch.

Too afraid to move.

Too afraid to have her lie fall apart.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	16. Part XV

**A/N: Guess who decided to come back to me? Yay, new chapter! Finally! Thank you to all my readers, Tracie, Yana, simonisthecutestmentalist, Div, Victorija, Shelli, Susan and Geilie! Double thanks to Tracie and Div for being as insane as I am. I feel like I must reiterate how much I miss Minelli, so there. Enjoy!**

**Spoilers: 2x08 _His Red Right Hand_.**

**Disclaimer: Yep, I'm still not Bruno Heller.**

* * *

**Part XV  
**

_A week later… _

She stares blankly out the window.

Darkness blankets the city streets below.

Dotted by street lamps at every corner.

Everything looks peaceful.

Calm.

A far cry from what she's feeling inside.

Minelli's unexpected resignation is still fresh in her mind.

Will be for quite some time.

She doesn't understand his reasoning.

Doesn't _want_ to understand.

But she respects his decision.

As much as she hates it.

"_You're quitting."_

_ "I-I tried to tell you before. Anyway, I prefer retiring. Full pension. Got my twenty and then some."_

_ "Okay then, we'll stay here and catch the bad guys, while you go fishing."_

"_Lisbon, in my eight years as SAC, I lost four agents, all of them last month."_

_ "So you should have quit then. It's too late now."_

_ "No, it's time. You, you take care of your people, they're good kids. And don't forget to take care of yourself. You don't want to turn into me…"_

She can still see his sarcastic smirk.

Feel his comforting arms around her.

She clutches her mug.

Relishing in its fading warmth.

The feeling serves as her reminder that she is in fact alive.

Alone, but alive.

She gazes at her reflection in the window.

And that is when she spots a familiar face above her shoulder.

Curly hair.

Bright eyes.

Three piece suit.

She blinks.

Tightly pressing her lids close.

She takes a few cleansing breaths.

In.

Out.

Then, reopens her eyes.

The shadowy image is gone.

The only thing she can make out is her own reflection.

Clearly her grasp on her sanity is slipping.

She finishes the remnants of her tea.

Settles her mug down at the tabletop closest to her.

Jane's unused desk.

She decides on the spot to have it moved in the morning.

Along with his books.

His couch.

She wants to forget him.

With that last thought, she looks up.

Curly hair.

Bright eyes.

Three piece suit.

She blinks.

But this time, the mirage doesn't disappear.

* * *

_A few hours earlier…_

_ He walks through the parking lot._

_ Nobody really notices him._

_ He continues through the lobby._

_ Past security._

_ The two guards don't stop him._

_ Offering only a simple wave._

_ The pair seem to be in a daze._

_ He takes the stairwell, avoiding the elevators._

_ And makes his way down a familiar corridor._

_ Checks the hallway._

_Making sure it's clear before proceeding._

_ He can see the light from the large office directly to his right._

_ Peers in._

_ Spots Minelli, hunched over a cardboard box._

_ He isn't here for idle chit chat._

_ But the sight of the older gentleman, the sparse office._

_The words escape before he could stop himself._

_ "You can't leave her."_

* * *

**TBC**


	17. Part XVI

**A/N: I know. It's long overdue. I have a semi-legitamit excuse though. Wisdom teeth, extracted. Enough said. But here's a rather angsty update. More Minelli! I thought there had to be more of a reason as to why he left so abruptly. So this is my take on the matter. ****I loved him so I just might have to unretire him. Any one else with me? Thank you to all the readers, parcticularly, Tracie, Div, Yana, Kae, ****Geilie, ****Shelly, Susan, Victorija and Simonisthecuttestmentalist. Enjoy!  
**

**Spoilers: Nothing too major in this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I own an awesome dental plan, but nothing much in terms of all things Mentalist.  
**

* * *

**Part XVI**

_He realizes he's being a hypocrite._

_ But doesn't care._

_ He watches Minelli's shoulders slump forward._

_ Before turning to face him._

_ The supervising agent doesn't look at all surprised to see him._

_ "Kettle, pot."_

_A faint smile forms on Jane's lips._

_ "If you don't mind, I'd rather be the pot."_

_ Minelli snorts, shakes his head._

_ "What are you doing here?"_

_ He knows where this question is going._

_ Decides to play along. _

_ "Wanted to make sure that Red John was actually dead."_

_"Am I really supposed to buy that?"_

_He's rather impressed with the older man._

_ Looks down a moment._

_Avoids his former boss's piercing gaze._

_ His attention is instantly grabbed by a picture frame in Minelli's grasp._

_ A young woman._

_ A young man._

_ The couple in a loving embrace._

_ "Your wife?"_

_ "Ex-wife," Minelli corrects._

_ Success._

_ "She called you."_

_ "Mmm, first time I spoke to her in years. She saw the press conference, said she was proud of me."_

_ Minelli swallows hard._

_ Fights back tears._

_ "I'm not leaving Lisbon. She doesn't need me."_

_ He tries to argue._

_ But Minelli holds up his hand._

_ "She needs you and you may not want to admit it, but you need her just as much. You think you're doing something honorable, by letting her go, but really you're just a coward. It's taken me a long time to realize that when a second chance comes your way, you take it, not everyone gets to be that lucky."_

_ Jane claps his hands dramatically._

_"Bravo, great speech."_

_ Minelli's face goes blank._

_ "Fine, be miserable, wallow in self pity. But just so you know, someone who truly cares about you is hurting because of you."_

_ Jane's grin falters._

_ Only for a fraction of a second._

_ "Thanks for the inspirational pep talk, Virgil. Good luck with your wife. If I could offer some advice, I'd bring lilies."_

_ "Jane…"_

_ He's already gone._

_ Making a beeline for the elevators._

_ Coward._

_ Minelli's astute choice of word could not be argued with._

_ His original plan to see her, scrapped._

_ Yet he can't shake that image out of his mind._

_ Standing just on the edge of the television screen._

_ Her petite figure._

_ Her wavy dark hair._

_ Her green eyes._

_ God, he misses those eyes._

* * *

_Present day…_

He can't quite wrap his brain around it.

She is actually standing there.

Not a dream.

Not a figment of his imagination.

She is only a few feet from him.

The past month is erased from his mind.

He feels grounded.

Just by being so close to her.

He no longer feels untethered from the real world.

And though he expects her to be angry, she doesn't look it.

Her green gaze, give nothing away.

She takes the first step towards him.

Pauses.

Then takes another.

She is an arm's length away when he realizes what's happening.

His hand catches her elbow before she could flee.

And with one look into those eyes, he feels his heart breaking.

"I missed you."

* * *

_**TBC**_


	18. Part XVII

**A/N: Wow, okay, so this is the home stretch! I will be wrapping this one up shortly. As always I want to thank all the readers, reviewers and lurkers alike. Special shout out to Tracie, MentalistLover, Yana, Simonisthecuttestmentalist, Susan, Div, Shelly and Geilie. Oh and if the last part of this chapter seems familiar, you can tell me about it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: By now you know, I own nothing. It's depressing every time I need to reiterate that.**

* * *

**Part XVII  
**

That's all it takes.

His voice.

Just hearing him, begins to melt the hurt away.

The resentment.

She desperately wants to let it all go.

She desperately wants to believe him.

"You don't get to tell me that you miss me."

From the corner of her eye, she notices his jaw tense.

"Lisbon…"

"You left, Jane."

She looks down at her feet.

"I'm sorry…"

"You're _sorry_?"

Her head snaps up.

The switch flips.

And just like that, the resentment floods back with a vengeance.

"I think I've heard enough sorries to last me a lifetime."

His hand completely slips from her arm.

And though she's free from his grasp, she remains frozen in place.

"You're right. You-you're absolutely right."

Her fingers curl tightly around the mug she's clutching.

As a single tear slips from her eye.

She doesn't get the chance to brush it away.

She stares up at him, startled.

His thumb glides over the tear.

Caressing her cheek.

And in an instant, he guides her face to his.

She can feel his breath on her lips.

Their foreheads barely touch.

"I missed you."

This time, the words break through her every defense.

The mug slips from her grasp.

Shattering into a hundred pieces by her feet.

She doesn't care.

Her arms are around him.

His around her.

She buries her face into his neck.

Breathing in the light scent of his aftershave.

Only now does she truly believe he's real.

While clinging onto him.

Eyes shut tightly.

Afraid that if she let go, he will disappear once again.

"I missed you too."

Her words are only a whisper.

He pulls her back.

Just enough.

She tries to soak him in.

The flecks of amber in his irises.

The curves of his face.

Hesitantly, he leans forward.

Allowing her time to push him away.

She barely moves as his lips brush the corner of her mouth.

When the kiss ends, she ducks her head.

A serious expression settles across her delicate features.

"Just so you know, this doesn't make everything better."

He nods tightly.

"I figured that much."

"Because if that was supposed to be a kiss…"

She feels the tension draining from his body.

His laugh against her chest.

"Tease."

She smirks.

She can definitely see herself getting used to being this happy.

"Serves you right."

"I can't believe you would question my kissing abilities at a moment like this."

"I thought you're supposed to be the psychic one. Besides, it was on the cheek."

His smile widens as he tilts her head towards him.

Allowing their noses to touch.

"It still counts."

* * *

_**TBC**_


	19. Epilogue

**A/N: Okay, I realize that this epilogue took forever to post. I think I might have written at least a dozen different versions of this and none of them I liked. But I am quite proud of what I did end up with. I want to thank Tracie for her constant support, without her encouragement this fic would have never seen the light of day. Thank you to all of the readers and reviewers, your words and kindness makes being a writer so rewarding and so much fun. I feel absolutely ecstatic to have finished this one. It's probably one of my favourite pieces that I've written. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist nor Cassablanca.**

* * *

**Epilogue**

He stands in the middle of the all too familiar room.

Takes in its meager furnishings.

A faux leather couch.

A lonely potted palm sitting in a corner.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Wanders around the cheap wooden coffee table.

Pauses.

The walls are now complete, painted.

No plastic sheathing.

No loose electrical wires.

No missing pockets of insulation.

No blood splattered on the floor.

No Bosco.

No Red John.

It's a hard concept for him to grasp.

No Red John.

"So what do you think?"

He turns around at the sound of her cheery voice.

The pretty real estate agent smiles politely at him from the doorway.

"It's nice."

She gives him a look, clearly unimpressed.

"You don't like it."

He offers her a shrug.

"No, I just, I was hoping for something more…"

Waving his hand in the air, he gropes for the appropriate word.

"Homey?"

"Exactly."

"Well, there are a few other places we can look at."

"Lead the way, oh fearless warrior."

She frowns.

"Mr. Jane, are you sure you want to buy an apartment?"

"I'm sure."

He speaks without hesitation.

She sighs but resignedly leads him back outside.

They descend the stairs in silence.

And exit through the front door.

Not needing to duck under yellow police tape.

His face instantly splits into a grin when he spots her.

Lisbon's back is towards him, standing on the sidewalk.

Her shoulders are tense.

Her arms, folded across her chest.

Her foot tapping restlessly against the pavement.

She looks up and he can see the tension dissipate.

"You okay?"

The question comes out awkwardly Lisbon.

She can't possibly know just how adorable she looks when she's concerned.

"It wasn't his cup of tea."

He shakes his head.

And almost wants to laughs at the real estate agent's response.

She clearly doesn't have a clue.

He completely ignores the intrusive woman.

Instead, focuses on the earnest green eyes staring up at him.

"I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Good."

He leans in and kisses her on the cheek.

"Good."

She flushes.

"What was that for?"

He smiles.

"For being here."

She matches his grin with one of her own.

"You know, since we are _technically_ a couple, maybe I should just move in with you."

He throws out the suggestion offhandedly.

Hopes to irk a reaction from her.

"That sounds like a great idea."

He stares at her.

Looking completely dumbfounded.

But only for a split second.

Her little smirk gives her away.

"You had me going for a second there."

"I do have my moments."

His attempt at mimicking her patented eye roll causes her to laugh.

"You need to work on that," she points out.

"Well not just anyone can have your caliber of ocular expressiveness."

"Oh, I've had _a lot_ of practice."

He notices her looking over his shoulder.

Cranes his neck and follows her line of sight.

His real estate agent is nowhere to be found.

"I guess we scared her off," he quips.

"We? What is this _we _business?"

"Maybe _we _should reconsider my grand plans of moving in with you."

"Maybe _we_ should."

This time, there is no teasing smirk.

He kisses her again.

And possessively drapes an arm around her shoulders.

No Red John.

Just Lisbon.

_His_ Lisbon.

"Well, kiddo, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

She looks at him with raised brows.

Then immediately dissolves into laughter.

He joins in as they make their way to her car.

Neither one taking a single glance backward.

* * *

_**Fin for now, Jello forever**_


End file.
